


The Things You Said

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Drabbles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Tumblr Prompts, domestic headcanons, established relationships - Freeform, marriage proposals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Various tumblr drabbles and tumblr fics from OMG Check Please.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Patater drabble prompt- Tater and Kent go shopping for furniture but they have completely different tastes!

Kent can’t stop laughing because his boyfriend is a literal child. They have the keys to their new house, which is a nice condo overlooking Mission Beach in San Diego. Kent found it one morning as they were taking as troll down the water. It was newly renovated, an industrial aesthetic with a lot of chrome and floor to ceiling windows. There’s a porch with polished stone and a built-in firepit. He instantly falls in love and calls the realtor to put in an offer even before he drags Alexei to see it.

Alexei, who had been far too fascinated with the cotton candy machine at Bellmont Park, and was on a slight sugar high by the time Kent found him.

The walk did enough to work off the calories, because it was near the jetty, and when the stood in front of it, Kent was expecting a slightly more enthusiastic reaction than, “Is okay.” He was about to protest, but then Alexei turns to the one two condos down—it’s hideous, old and bright purple with potted _fake_ palms lining the walkway. “This is much nicer. Maybe we call and make offer on this.”

Kent, luckily, can be very convincing, and after several, low-whispered, downright filthy descriptions of how to make proper use of all the space, Alexei relents.

It takes six weeks, but the condo is officially theirs. They’re not going to be using it beyond summers in the off season, seeing as Kent’s still with the Aces, and Alexei’s been with the Sharks now for two years, but Kent figures they can throw it up on Airbnb so it doesn’t just rot, and they can get some of their money back because although Kent has the money to spend, sometimes writing checks with all those zeros throws him back to a time when he watched his mother struggle to gather up enough change to buy milk for the week.

Still, Kent enjoys the fact that he’s got a little place now that they can call their own. It’s difficult enough between them, trying to decide where they want to spend their time together—they get precious little of it, and their post-game fucks the handful of times they meet on roadies hardly make up for lonely nights with skype, a bottle of lube, and their right hand.

And frankly, the idea of something being theirs, properly theirs, sends his head into a spin. Maybe they’ll get like a dog or something. Or a fish.

At the very least they’re going to need furniture which is what prompts Kent to drag Alexei out of the bed early that July morning. “Come on,” he says, kissing down Alexei’s neck. “Come on, babes. We need to go furniture shopping. The painters are going to be done soon, and I want our first night there to be in an actual bed.”

“I’m like this bed,” Alexei says, dragging Kent back under the covers. “We give good offer to hotel, they let us take.”

Kent rolls his eyes, but he feels kind of a rush in his chest because fuck his boyfriend is really cute. Especially when he burrito’s Kent up in the blankets like this, like he never wants to let go. Kent lets himself get lost in the kissing for a little while, but he’s still determined, damn it, and he wants to do this. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid, but he wants to feel domestic for five minutes, like he’s got a normal life. Like he’s just some guy who goes furniture shopping with a significant other.

“Come on. Get up and I’ll blow you in the shower.”

He giggles so hard his stomach hurts when Alexei throws the blankets off, drapes Kent over his shoulder, and lumbers to the bathroom like the jolly fucking Russian giant.

*** 

Alexei insists on driving, which he’s been doing the whole trip because finally after being in the States for like a decade he managed to take the driver’s test and get his driving licence. He’s kind of reckless, which goes along with the other California drivers, so Kent isn’t too fussed about it, and he’s only a little annoyed because Alexei won’t tell them where they’re going and he’s not even using GPS.

“You’re going to get us lost.”

“I’m not lost,” Alexei says with an indignant sniff. “I find place when we’re going for the curry you insist we get. I know good place with best furniture.”

IKEA. It’s a fucking IKEA. Kent swears he’s going to have a rage stroke as Alexei pulls into the parking lot, grinning like he just discovered another goddamn gold rush.

“We’re not putting IKEA furniture in the house!” he says, crossing his arms and refusing to get out of the car.

Alexei looks scandalised. “What? Why not. Is good furniture, and I read Swedish, I put together perfect, you see.”

“It’s…it’s not about the directions!” Kent says, then yelps because Alexei is out of the car and on his side, and bodily removing him from the vehicle. “People are going to take our photos, Alyosha! For like…prestigious magazines and shit. We can’t tell them we shopped at IKEA. We can’t show them a fucking Holmsund sofa!”

Alexei grins widely. “See, you already know names of sofa! You like furniture. Come on, nobody care what kind of furniture we have. I like IKEA. Good meatballs.”

Kent knows when his boyfriend gets like this, he’s unreasonable, so he lets himself be dragged inside, and he’s determined to get the most expensive shit in there because he will be damned if he tells Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous that his couch cost four hundred bucks online.

And of course this part isn’t easy either. Kent has an aesthetic. It’s important to his image, and he wants things to match. So when Alexei has his heart set on this fucking tardis blue sleeper sofa, he has to put his foot down. “No. Absolutely not. I will never sit on that, oh my god.”

Alexei pouts his lip out, and Kent wants to kiss him until he’s smiling again, even if he will not give in. When it’s clear Kent’s not budging, Alexei flops down on the display model and spreads his arms out. “Is best couch. Fit me nice and snug. Fit us both. Sturdy, for other activities.”

Kent blushes. He honest to god blushes and rolls his eyes. He tries to pull Alexei up, but his lumbering Frost Giant of a boyfriend is still stronger than he is, and manages to drag Kent onto his lap, making Kent giggle—mortified while doing it of course—and kisses him gentle and soft, making Kent’s toes curl.

“I refuse to concede,” Kent whispers against Alexei’s mouth. “I don’t care what you do to me.”

Alexei drags his fingers up and down Kent’s ribs, ignoring parents who are forced to walk by because IKEA’s lay out exists to remind you that there are places in the world where you can go mad if you aren’t careful. Kent feels like he’s melting into the sofa and he hates that it’s comfortable, and he hates that it’s less than a thousand bucks. And fuck he hates the colour so much. But those big brown eyes are staring at him and Jesus what is wrong with him.

“Fine, but we’re not getting it in blue.”

“Is fine, I like Aces colours. Just like I like Aces captains.” He brushes his thumb along Kent’s bottom lip, then drags him up and Kent’s profoundly grateful he wore loose jeans and a longer shirt today, otherwise he’d be on display as much as the furniture models.

The rest of the trip is just as much of a disaster. He manages to get the kitchen table he wants, and they actually agree on the bed. Kent lets Alexei go crazy with the furniture for the two guest rooms, and Alexei agrees to let Kent pick out the kitchen appliances from Crate and Barrel online. Alexei falls in love with a piece of wall art that Kent thinks might have been created by a person who covered their entire body in paint and rolled round on the canvas.

He half considers trying that out himself to see if maybe he’s any good at the art thing, and Alexei mutters to himself in Russian about where the painting would look best.

The trip takes four hours, and Kent’s starving and agrees to the damn meatballs even though he doesn’t even like meatballs. But watching Alexei scarf them down like they’re the best things he’s ever had is kind of cute, and he finds himself smiling.

He gets kissed for it, which is even better.

*** 

That night, they go back to the condo. The furniture won’t be there for a few days, but they have the keys and they head upstairs where Alexei fucks Kent on the bathroom counter with the door half-closed, and the bedroom window open, the sounds of the pacific ocean crashing onto the sand.

When they’re done—a little sticky because none of the utilities are on yet so there’s no water to wash up with—they settle onto their porch and Alexei finds a few pieces of leftover wood from the previous tenants. He gets a fire going with a handful of loose flyers which had been discarded on the boardwalk, and the pair of them sit on the ground with their backs to the living room window. 

Kent eventually moves to sit between Alexei’s legs, laying back as Alexei’s arms come round him. His nose buries into Kent’s neck and he breathes him in.

“I’m happy,” Alexei mutters.

Kent feels a thrill shooting up his spine and he hates how this man can reduce him down to gentle smiles and quiet giggles, but he also sort of loves it. He thinks back to a handful of years ago when he was bitter, and angry. In the closet, a wound still trickling blood from where Jack had ripped his heart out. He had been drowning in regret and guilt for the way he hadn’t tried to make it better with Jack, as though hurting Jack would somehow even the playing field.

How the hell would he know that one game, one string of angry Russian hissed in his ear, a threat of a beating, would lead to this. How could he have known that later in the bar, gentle hands and a quiet apology would lead him to this moment—where he is aware he’s never been so happy, and never been so content.

“I’m happy too,” he says after a long silence. A breeze washes past them, cool from the ocean, but with a prickle of summer warmth. He closes his eyes and focuses on Alexei’s calloused, large fingers gently drawing lines around his palm. “I love you.”

He doesn’t say it often, though he knows Alexei knows it. He kind of enjoys the way it makes Alexei startle, like he’s hearing it for the very first time each time. He feels warm hands on his chin as his head is turned, and lips cover his, a soft tongue dragging along his own needy and fucking perfect.

Kent opens his eyes when the kiss breaks off, and Alexei’s own gaze is warm, and Kent feels safe, like he’s home. And it’s not the place, he realises. It’s just…this.

“I love you, Paroshka,” Alexei says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m marry you some day.”

Kent doesn’t expect the sudden warmth in his eyes, like the tears were magicked there or something. Only a couple spill out, and he’s too startled to even care because he knew Alexei loved him, but that much? He swallows and chokes out, “Yeah?”

Alexei laughs, brushing the wetness away with his thumb before he tucks his arms round Kent and cuddles him like he’s a damn teddy bear. “Yeah. I’m give you big wedding, very fancy for your stupid magazine photos.”

Kent laughs, his throat still hot and tight, and he buries his face against Alexei’s chest. “It better cost like…a fucking million dollars.”

“Not Vegas chapel wedding, then?” Alexei asks, and laughs when Kent smacks him on the arm. “I’m give you nicest wedding. Have all friends and family, make big production. We trend on twitter for months. Make Kardashians jealous.”

Kent laughs so hard his eyes fill with tears again, and he turns onto his knees in spite of the ground being hard and unforgiving. He puts both hands on Alexei’s cheeks and kisses him, kisses him, kisses him.

When it’s over, he takes Alexei’s hand and drags him to his feet. There’s still a few more days before they can move in, but it doesn’t matter. So long as he has these fingers tangled in his, he’s already home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zimbits- 97. “I want you and I know you want me too.” Zimbits, one of them being deaf?

Bitty’s on the roof, shivering even though Jack’s jacket is firmly round his shoulders. The fire has died down, and everyone except Shitty and Lardo have retired. Lardo’s managed to find chalk–Bitty swears she can magic it sometimes–and she and Shitty are drawing self-portraits on the ground. Lardo’s looks amazing, Shitty’s is…well. Very him.

Jack’s nearby. Bitty can feel his heat more than he can feel the heat of the fire. Out of his periphery he swears he can see Jack stealing glances at him. His knees are crooked up, forearms dangling. His hands are hanging there, and occasionally they’ll sort of twist into half-signs and once upon a time–during one of their cooking lessons, Bitty noticed and asked Jack what it was about.

“Oh euh…my dad calls it sign-mumbling,” Jack said, a little pink in the cheeks that he’s been noticed. “Old habit”

Bitty smiled at him and gave him a small hip-check. “I’ll learn it one day.”

“Work on French first, then sign,” Jack replied with a wink.

Bitty doesn’t tell Jack he spends hours a night sometimes, watching Deaf youtubers give basic sign lessons. He doesn’t tell Jack that he watches as much ASL and LSF as he can because he knows Jack uses both. He doesn’t tell Jack about the French-English dictionary under his bed–or that his classes at the start of his Junior year is including a French 101.

He doesn’t tell him any of that because Bitty’s got the crush the size of Jupiter and sometimes he thinks Jack might actually like him, for the way he stares at Bitty when they’re alone, or when he thinks no one’s looking. Bitty doesn’t think Jack looks at anyone else like that.

But then Bitty thinks it can’t possibly be true because why would someone as amazing as Jack want him?

Jack nudges him, then makes a Y and taps it on his chin. Bitty knows that one. The whole team knows a handful of signs which help them with Jack during games when he can’t be close enough to hear them. ‘What’s wrong?’

Bitty smiles and shakes his head and moves a little closer. He tries to speak without mumbling because he doesn’t want Jack to have to try so hard for him. “Nothing. Just…year’s endin’ so fast. I’m.” He stops and he sees Jack’s eyes on him, focused and intense and it’s heady and head-spinning. “I’m going to miss you.” Then because he’s trying to be careful, “I’m going to miss all of you.”

Jack’s face softens and his hands go a little tense, but then Shitty and Lardo stumble over, a bit drunk and giggling. “We’re going to find a diner still open. I want pancakes,” Lardo says. “You in?”

Bitty isn’t sure, and he thinks if Jack is, he might just head off to bed. But Jack shakes his head. “I’m going to wait for the fire to go out.”

“Suit yourself,” Lardo says, and signs something Bitty doesn’t understand and Jack laughs and kicks at her leg, missing. “Be good you two.”

Bitty doesn’t question it, how both Lardo and Shitty assumed that if Jack was staying, Bitty was staying. He should question it, he thinks. But he doesn’t.

Instead of letting the fire die, Jack throws on another log, and when he comes to sit back down, he’s close enough that their thighs are touching, and Bitty’s entire face is pink and hot. He thinks he can blame it on the fire, and almost does but when he turns, Jack is looking pointedly at him.

Bitty swallows.

Jack lifts his hands and signs and Bitty only catches a few words here and there. ‘You. Me. Want.’ He thinks one of the words is date, and one might be kiss, but he doesn’t trust himself because he wants this too much. And he still can’t imagine someone as gorgeous and perfect as Jack Laurent Zimmermann would even consider someone like Bitty.

Then Jack stops, he’s quiet again, then he brings his hand up and brushes his thumb along Bitty’s cheekbone where the blush is darkest. He smiles, and Bitty swears that he’s never seen anything more gorgeous in his life.

“What?” he asks.

Jack tilts his head to the side. “I want you,” he said, the words blunt, curved with his accent, “and I know you want me too.”

Bitty thinks maybe it’s a challenge, or maybe it’s an accusation. But staring into those blue eyes he knows he can’t lie. So he nods, because there’s no other answer left to give.

He’s rewarded with Jack’s smile again, which lights up his entire face and then Jack’s leaning in and he’s tapping his fingers against his cheek.

“Kiss. Is that…kiss?” Bitty asks, his voice hoarse and he hopes Jack can hear him alright.

Bitty looks back at Jack’s face and Jack nods, and the edge of his thumb brushes against Bitty’s bottom lip. It’s deliberate and it makes Bitty lose his breath.

Then suddenly there’s no distance between them. They’re kissing, and Jack’s cupping his cheek, and Bitty’s hands move to clutch the front of Jack’s shirt. He’s warm warm warm, then cold as Jack pulls away, but there’s light in those blue eyes like Bitty has never seen.

Jack laughs quietly, not mocking–but sweet and wonderful. “Date me. I…that’s what I said. I said I wanted to date you, and maybe kiss you.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and yanks Jack in for a kiss, breaking away only long enough to say, “Yes, of course.”

They kiss again, for a while, then Jack pulls away. Not that far, just far enough to speak. “Really?” He asks, and Bitty nods, and he laughs. “Swawesome.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patater- Are you still taking prompts??? If so can we get some angsty 96. “I never thought you’d hurt me but I was wrong. You hurt me the most.” Ps I'm going to hate myself for asking for angst later so pls have a happy ish ending 

Okay since I didn’t get a pairing with this one, I’m going to do Patater because that ship owns my entire ass right now. Normally I don’t write this sort of angst so…this is new for me. Warnings for drugged drinks and people taking non-consensual photos, and the emotional aftermath of that. Most of it under the cut.

*** 

It starts with a round of shots. They’ve won the cup and they’re in a club and it’s not just the boys who are buying drinks. Everyone is too excited. Kent knows he needs to be careful. He drinks water in between and he’s sending the occasional text and trying to respond to all the twitter congrats from the other players.

He feels pretty over the moon when both Jack and Bitty publicly praise him for his hat trick.

But things start to get fuzzy after someone shoves some mai tai in his hands and he takes a few sips. He reaches and manages to grab Swoops and something like, “Get me out of here, man, I don’t feel so good,” tumbles from his lips. He’s really thinking of his apartment, and Kit, and wishing that his giant, adorable, adoring boyfriend was waiting for him.

But Alexei was visiting his mother and wasn’t due back in the States for the next few days.

Kent remembers very little after that.

He wakes in the hospital, to a media shit-storm. Photos have been released of him cosy in some booth with some fans, and he doesn’t remember any of it, or how the hell he got into the hospital, or why he’s even there. All he knows is that everything hurts and it’s hard to move, and he swears he vomited up at least six vital organs.

Almost the entire PR team is there. Someone put something in his drink, or at least that’s what they think. All the guys vouched for Kent saying he hadn’t been that far gone. There wasn’t anything in his tox-screen but it doesn’t mean someone hadn’t done something.

“We think your drink got spiked,” Richard says. Kent doesn’t know him well, but he’s the clean-up guy. “Unfortunately the photos have been making rounds on twitter and…it’s not pretty.”

Kent tries to speak but nothing comes out. “What the fuck happened to me?”

Swoops got him into a cab, and Kent had insisted he’d be fine to get home. He never made it home. A bartender found him passed out and looking half-dead and called an ambulance.

That’s the most they know.

Kent scrolls through his phone and looks at the photos and feels sick and angry. He wants to talk to Alexei, or…someone. God he’s so confused and his head hurts. He sleeps a lot and lets the IV hydrate him because the very thought of putting anything in his stomach sends him into spirals of nausea.

He’s tested. The doctors are all pretty sure whatever happened, nothing had been sexual, but without his memory he can’t be sure and those photos are so suggestive.

But he’s released and he gets home and the moment the door shuts he sinks to the ground and cries and dials Zimms because Tater’s god knows where and the cell phone signal there is shit.

Zimms answers after the third ring. “What the fuck, Kenny?”

He’s crying too hard to explain straight away, but Jack with his infinite patience holds the line and eventually it comes spilling out. “…and they’re trying to clean it up, but I’m going to have to release a statement or something and I just…” He takes a shaking breath. “What the fuck, man.”

Zimms is quiet for a really long time. “I didn’t know. No one knew.”

“No shit,” Kent says without any real venom.

There’s a pause. “Alexei’s here.”

Kent blinks. “I…what? What do you mean he’s there? He was supposed to fly into Vegas. When…what um…”

“Someone sent him the photos. He’s…he. No one knows, Kent. Everyone thinks you…”

“No.” Kent wants to put his fist through the wall but can’t because he’s too weak from everything. So he just curls up in on himself. “He hates me, doesn’t he.”

“He just…” Jack takes a shaking breath. “He keeps saying you were the one person he thought would never hurt him. Then you did. More than he’s ever been hurt.”

“I-I didn’t…!”

“I know,” Jack says quickly. “Let me talk to him. I’ll explain it. He’ll understand.”

All Kent can manage is a noise of assent, and a sort of dry sob, and he lets Jack hang up because what the fuck else can he do.

He somehow manages to scrape himself up off the floor, feed Kit, then he spends half an hour under a scalding spray of water trying to wash off the smell of anaesthetic and club, and stranger’s perfume. He picks at the residue from the medical tape which held the IV in, and he pushes his head against the cold tiles of the shower so hard he’s going to bruise–but the physical pain feels better than the shit going on inside.

He finally gets out and dries off then dares to look at his phone with some expectation of hope that Alexei will believe Jack. But there aren’t any messages. At least none that matter.

He’s fucked.

He’s gone and fucked the only good thing in his life that mattered and this time it wasn’t even his fault. He slips into bed and closes his eyes and wonders if he even wants to wake up.

*** 

Kent’s eyes open hours and hours later, because something is different. There’s someone in the bed with him. His head goes into overdrive and he starts to panic, but a warm hand touches the side of his neck and suddenly a familiar smell floods his nostrils and his entire body sags.

A soft but heavy voice speaks right up against his shoulder. “I come as soon as Jack explain.” Alexei’s voice is dripping with…something. Regret or remorse. Kent can’t tell because his head’s still fuzzy. “I’m sorry.”

Kent manages to turn, and he’s not even sure what he’s seeing is real. Alexei is there and looking drawn and sad. “I…”

“I should have believe you, should have call you. I’m understand if you not want me here, Paroshka.”

Kent feels his entire body just kind of give, and he slides into Alexei’s arms and buries his face in Alexei’s neck and lets himself be held. He thinks he’s crying. His emotions are so fucked right now, but Alexei is rocking him gently and making soothing noises in his ear, and speaking in Russian.

“It…I don’t know what happened,” Kent finally manages. “I wasn’t drinking that much. I wasn’t paying attention. I should have…”

“No,” Alexei says, firm and almost harsh. “No. Is not your fault. Whoever do this to you, is their fault. Legal team find owners of pictures, take action. Find who do this to your drink.”

Kent shakes his head. “There were so many people. Fuck, I have no idea…”

“I’m take care of you now,” Alexei said. He pulls back, cupping Kent’s face gently. “Will you forgive me?”

Kent lets out a watery laugh. “Don’t be an idiot. I would have thought…I would have thought the same thing, okay? I would have been a lot meaner.” That was true. If the situation was reversed and he saw photos of Alexei like that without knowing…he doesn’t even want to think about what he’d have said or done. “I forgive you,” he finally says.

Alexei’s eyes are a little watery and very soft, and he pulls Kent back down into a hug. “We figure it out, you safe now. With me. Okay?”

Kent’s breath is shaking along with his body but he feels safe and he believes Alexei. Even if they can’t be together all the time, he believes him that he’ll keep Kent safe. And it’s maybe a little pathetic–he sure as hell feels pathetic, but right now he doesn’t give much of a shit because Alexei is here, and he still loves him, and he’s not going away.

“I love you,” Alexei says quietly.

Kent smiles, then holds on a little tighter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about 53 who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream with holsom?

Ransom woke with a start, blindly reaching for whatever was nearest, which happened to be one of Adam’s textbooks, and swung blindly at the noise which was toppling from their small, attic window.

The lump let out a cry, and an indignant, “Bro, stop, Jesus I’ve pictured my death before but it was not bludgeoned to death by my own books!”

Sleep-stupid and bleary-eyed, it was only the familiar voice he would know alive or dead, that stopped his hand. Ransom ran his hand over his face. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I um…locked myself out,” Holster said. He adjusted his glasses, then accepted the hand up. “I passed out on the porch, but bro, I woke up with the biggest craving for that cashew milk ice cream and I wanted to see if you wanted to get some.”

Ransom stared, then his gaze flickered over to the desk. “It’s four in the morning.”

“Oh. Yeah, it is,” Adam said, shrugging.

Ransom lifted a brow. “Bro. It’s four in the morning.”

“You like…just said that,” Holster said with a shrug.

Shaking his head, Ransom flopped back on the bed. “Who climbs through someone’s window at four am for ice cream?”

“It’s my window too,” Holster said with a shrug.

“Jesus,” Ransom groaned into his pillow, then flopped over and began to rummage round under the bed until he came up with his joggers.

“Bro,” Holster said slowly, “are you down?”

Ransom sighed. “I’m down.”

“Swawesome!” Holster fist-pumped the air. Ransom let out a muffled grunt as he was tackled back to the bed and kissed repeatedly.

When Ransom managed to extract his face, he looked up at the other man grinning above him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…you love me.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, but it didn’t stop the small grin from spreading across his face, even if it was four in the damn morning. He poked Holster on the nose, then pushed him off until he was flat on his ass, staring at him from the floor. “I guess I do.”

“Swawesome!”

Ransom sighed, grabbed his keys, his boyfriend’s hand–yanking him from the floor– and tugged him out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PB&J for #80. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

It wasn’t that fights between Jack and Kent were unheard of. They bickered over everything, and most of the time Bitty stayed out of it. Only this time the fight was about Bitty because Kent had been a little thoughtless, and Bitty’s feelings had been hurt, and Jack over-reacted.

So now they weren’t speaking to each other and Bitty was just trying to piece everything together. Kent was somewhere–Bitty hadn’t seen him in a while, and Jack was lacing up his trainers for a run.

“I just need to get it out of my system.” He didn’t kiss Bitty before he left–also typical. Jack needed space when he was angry.

It left Bitty on the chair near the TV which was off, knees curled into his chest, breathing kind of heavy because being in a relationship was still fairly new to him, and on top of that trying to maintain relationships with two people well…it was a lot.

An hour went by, then the bedroom door opened and shut. Bitty, who had dropped off, snapped his head up and saw Kent there, hands in his pockets, snapback on backward. He was shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Look Bits um. Maybe…do you think uhh…you and Jack could go out for dinner? It…I get it and I’m…like I’m not gonna fight you on it, but it would make it easier if you two weren’t …you know. Watching.”

Bitty stared at him. “Hun, you’re not totally makin’ sense here. Watch what?”

“Me,” Kent said. Swallowed. Breathed. “Packing.”

Bitty’s eyes flew wide and panic erupted in his chest because…because what? He was on his feet in an instant. “Packing what? What are you talking about, Kent? What’s going on?”

Kent laughed, the sound bitter, and he dragged his hand through his hair, knocking the hat to the floor. “Come on, Bits. You and Jack both know it was going to be me who fucked this up. It’s…I’m not cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?” Bitty tried to focus on the words instead of his fear of Kent actually walking out the door.

“Love. I’m…shit, Bits, you know about me and Jack. You know I’m not any good at this. And I know you love him more than me, and it just makes sense that I…”

“Shut up.” Bitty wasn’t sure his voice had ever sounded this angry, and the tone of it had Kent snapping his jaw closed. “Just…shut up, Kent. Christ I…” Bitty started pacing, tugging at his hair a little. His anger was visceral and painful. He spun round and stalked toward his boyfriend. “Please tell me you don’t really think this, Kent. Tell me.”

“Bits,” he said helplessly.

Bitty shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “After all this, after all this time, how can you not think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you!”

“Bits,” he whispered. “I’m…I hurt you.”

Bitty threw up his hands. “I know that! I was there. But good gracious, you and Jack are always chirping each other and making mistakes. Jack hasn’t been a saint with me either, if you recall.”

Kent’s cheeks pinked, but he said nothing.

Bitty gave up, dragging him by the front of his shirt, and the momentum knocked them onto the sofa. Bitty was having none of this. He shifted until Kent’s arms were around him, and he pushed his face into Kent’s neck. “If you really want to leave, if that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. But I love you, Kent Parson. And so does Jack. And we’re in this so…so just. Shut up.”

Kent let out a watery laugh and pushed his nose into Bitty’s hair. “I’m an idiot.”

“Understatement of the damn year,” Bitty growled, then lifted his face and kissed Kent, soft and easy as it had ever really been between them.

Kent cupped Bitty’s cheek. “Sorry.”

Bitty shook his head. “I know.”

*** 

When Jack came in forty minutes later, he found Kent dozing, his head back, mouth open. Bitty was still resting against Kent’s chest, watching TV with the captions on and the sound down.

Jack sighed, then eased himself in the space next to Kent, his hand coming up to brush a lock of fringe from Bitty’s forehead. “Bad one?”

Bitty sighed. “Bein’ a damn fool. Thought we’d want him to leave.”

Jack’s face fell just a little bit, and he brushed the backs of his knuckles along Kent’s sternum. “He and I both…don’t react well to being disliked.”

Bitty laughed quietly. “Don’t I know it. I reminded him we love him.”

Jack sighed, then leant forward and kissed Bitty softly. “Thank you.” It meant thank you, for loving us, for keeping us together, for not letting it fall apart.

Bitty knew it, and brushed his fingers down Jack’s cheek before settling in next to Kent once more as Jack got up to shower. A little later there would be more talk, more kissing, probably dinner, and a soft reminder that it really was going to be alright.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zimbits- Are you ticklish? Prompt

It started just a little huff as Bitty dragged his teeth lightly along Jack’s ribs. He took it as a good thing, and applied more pressure.

“hee hee hee.”

Bitty’s gaze snapped up, and saw a darkening flush against Jack’s cheeks as he squirmed. Bitty’s eyes narrowed and he did it again. Jack squirmed, and this time a full on giggle escaped his lips. He shoved his knuckle between his teeth and bit down as Bitty moved up onto his elbow.

“Oh my goodness, darlin’ are you…ticklish?” For whatever reason, the idea of this giant of a man with his big arms and drawn mouth being ticklish was almost too much.

Jack flushed, looking away. “I…maybe?”

Bitty reached up with careful hands, then pressed the tips of his fingers into Jack’s ribs. He felt his boyfriend tense, his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare,” Jack warned.

Bitty dug in a little further, watching Jack’s face grow more alarmed. Bitty was like a cat, warning claws sunk in just enough so if you moved…that was it. “Are you?”

“Bits,” Jack said.

Bitty wriggled the tips of his fingers and Jack tried to squirm away, but Bitty was lightning fast both on and off the rink. He had Jack pinned in seconds, both hands digging into his ribs on both sides.

Jack howled, squirming, laughing and bucking his hips but Bitty was a southern boy and he could ride any bull. Okay that wasn’t true, Bitty hadn’t even seen a bull in person ever in his life, but he was a strong little shit with thighs like steel and he clamped them round Jack’s hips.

“Arrête! Bitty!”

Bitty released his hold, collapsing on top of Jack’s chest as his boyfriend grabbed him, spinning them down to pin Bitty to the bed. He was flushed and panting and so fucking beautiful. Bitty risked Jack’s wrath by lifting his hand, cupping Jack’s cheeks, and brushing his thumb against the warm skin over his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry,” Bitty said with a slight giggle. “It’s just…I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

Jack pouted a little, but Bitty could see the corners of his lips threatening to twitch into a full grin. “It’s not my favourite thing about myself.”

“Hmm.” Bitty moved his hands down back to Jack’s ribs, though this time he applied his palms flat, warm pressure, and dragged his hands up and down. He shifted his hips slightly upward, this time making Jack’s cheeks colour for a totally different reason. “I think I can work with it.”

“Ah ouais?” Jack murmured, then dipped his head down and kissed Bitty hot and sweet. When he pulled away, he had a glint in his eye, and his fingers moved under Bitty’s shirt. “Well now that we know about mine…”

“Oh no,” Bitty breathed.

Jack grinned wolfishly. “Let’s see if we can find some of yours.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 88\. “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” kent/tater in vegas.

Kent woke up with a pounding headache–which wasn’t surprising considering. He remembered a handful of things–like picking his boyfriend up from the airport, and going home for a quick, mutual toss-off. A shower was involved, he was pretty sure, and a quick dinner.

Then…clubs. So many clubs. He remembered big arms and a soft voice in his ear, “I’m to see your Vegas, Paroshka?” And how the hell was he supposed to tell him no when he was all cute like that, Jesus.

But after club four things started to get fuzzy. He glanced over at Alexei who was face down, face mashed into the pillow, drooling, and that shouldn’t have been fucking cute–God what was wrong with him. He rubbed at his temples and attempted to stand up but the world swam and fuck he was pretty sure he was still a little drunk.

He grabbed his phone on the way to the toilet for a long piss which, wow smelled of vodka, and he scrolled through his history. Uber-yeah good okay so they didn’t try to do anything stupid. And Swoops nine times, and some unknown numbers–whatever that was.

And fuck. Zimms and Bitty.

He went into his texts and sure enough there were at least nine texts. Probably more than chirps. Only one was from Zimms– ‘don’t be a fucking idiot, parse.’

Two from Swoops, ‘sorry man.’ ‘but have fun with that.’

A handful from unknown numbers saying he’d gotten the wrong one.

Then Bittle. ‘I’m glad you love him, hun, but maybe think before you put a ring on it. Maybe not when you’re drunk. Call us in the morning, Kenny.’

Fuck. Ring on it? What the actual fuck? His head was pounding even harder and shit, he kind of remembered something about that. Like…some chapel?

Oh god.

He went into his navigation history and…

Oh fuck. Little Chapel of Vegas.

Oh god. Oh. Oh. No.

Sweeping into the room, he yanked the blankets off Alexei and began to smack his bare ass to wake him up. “Hey. Alexei, man. Tater! Alyosha! Wake the fuck up.” His panic outweighed his pain which was good, though Alexei gave him a look that could kill.

“Why you wake me. Everything hurts. Come back to bed, we sleep it off, get big breakfast later.” He made grabby hands at Kent, but Kent stumbled backward.

“Look I…okay look. Alexei. Don’t panic or anything alright but uhhh. I think we might have gotten married last night.”

Alexei stared at him, then snorted and rolled his eyes. “Is all? Get back in bed, is early.”

“Are you not hearing me?” Kent said, dragging one hand into his hair, profoundly aware of how absurd it was to be having this conversation naked, half-hard, and flushed red. And smelling, god he needed a shower. “We…got married.”

“Nyet,” Alexei said, and yawned loudly. “You want to get married, I think good idea, we get to chapel, they say you too drunk.”

“You were drunk,” Kent bit back automatically, sounding like a child. But his head was spinning out of control.

“I not that drunk. I’m Russian, can hold my vodka.” He reached his unnaturally long arm over, grabbed Kent by the wrist, and yanked him back to the blankets. Nuzzling in, he spoke against Kent’s thrumming pulse. “You threaten to sue, man get scared of Kent Parson. I tell you we get married tomorrow, when sober.”

“You remember. You…were coherent enough and you wanted to marry me?” Kent choked out.

Alexei laughed sleepily. “Yes. I love you, Paroshka. Now, I have elephant in head, we sleep and maybe get married after breakfast.” He nuzzled in, and as Kent’s heartbeat slowed to a reasonable rate, it all caught up with him.

Alexei wanted to…marry him? His face flushed, and he pushed his nose into the messy brown locks. “You wanna marry me,” he whispered.

Alexei laughed again, the sound far off, too near sleep. “Of course, kotyonok. I’m love you, after all. Now. Sleep.”

Kent took a breath, and closed his eyes with the promise that maybe it wouldn’t be some shitty Vegas chapel wedding but if he wanted it…he could have it. And with that, he slept.  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #65, "I wish I could see myself the way I see you" with zimbits for the prompts please?

Jack breathed heavy against Bitty’s soft mouth, his hands curled at Bitty’s waist, tugging him close, closer, though it was never close enough. Bitty’s head dipped to kiss Jack’s favourite spot, where his thrumming pulse beat against Bitty’s lips.

When he pulled away, Bitty was flushed, lips red, a little wet, and he pushed his fingers into Jack’s hair. “Good lord, just when I think i couldn’t love you more.” He dipped his head in, and their lips met in a slow, soft dance before Bitty pulled back. “You’re perfect.”

Jack swallowed against the lump in his throat. He’d never been good at taking compliments, because he never really felt worthy of them. But when Bitty said them, sometimes they didn’t feel false. Sometimes he felt worthy.

He looked down as Bitty’s fingers drew soft lines up and down his sternum. “Bits,” he muttered.

Bitty looked up and smiled at him, sunny and warm and just…everything. His hand went round Bitty’s waist, almost large enough to cover Bitty’s entire backside, and he pressed him tight. “Jack,” Bitty breathed back, like his name was a prayer.

“I wish…” Jack stopped and took in a trembling breath. “I wish sometimes…I could see me the way I see you.”

Bitty cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t ask Jack to explain himself. Maybe it was because Bitty understood on that same fundamental level Jack did. Because Bitty hadn’t grown up easy, either. Hiding, afraid, constantly trying to be something else. Jack’s hands slipped up to to Bitty’s sides, and he eased him down onto the bed.

He had one hand on either side of Bitty’s face, and he kissed him again, trying to pour everything into that gesture. When he pulled back, Bitty was smiling, toying with a bit of his fringe which was getting just this side of too long, hanging just above his brow.

“You know I love you, Jack Zimmermann. And whatever you’re thinking well…just know you’re enough. You’re exactly enough.”

Jack sighed into the next kiss, and let Bitty draw him down, into warm arms that were safe, and were home. Bitty pushed his face into the side of Jack’s neck, and spoke gently against his skin. “Alright?”

Jack nodded, and held on a fraction tighter. “Alright, Bits.” And for the moment, he believed it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 76\. “I need you to pretend we’re dating…” and Zimbits?

“…Bits…”

“I know it sounds…you know. But I just…look no one is going to recognise you, okay? This is a Football family, and we’ll just call you Jack. It’s just…” Bitty shoved his hand into his hair, not looking at Jack’s soft baby blues. “I came out and they told me I’d never…and I just want to show them…”

“Bits,” Jack said, his voice a little louder.

Bitty turned on his heel, his cheeks pink. “I just need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for the night, okay? Just for the party.”

Jack crossed the room, a soft smile on his face as he reached up and cupped Bitty’s cheeks. His thumbs brushed along the flushed skin and Bitty let out a shaking sigh. “Of course.”

Bitty blinked. “Really?”

“There’s only one problem,” Jack said, his voice solemn.

Bitty swallowed. “Um…” His head was just too full, too stressed, too desperate to prove to his cousins he wasn’t some unlovable backwoods, washed up country boy.

Jack cocked his head to the side. “I can’t pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Jack…” Bitty whispered.

“…because we’re already dating.”

All the air deflated from Bitty’s lungs as he sagged against the other man. Jack chuckled as he held Bitty close. “I…oh, you know what I meant. I mean…because we’re not…you know. Out.”

Jack held him at arm’s length for a moment, then kissed him softly. “Whatever you need, Bits. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Bitty pushed up on his toes and kissed Jack softly. “Thanks.”

Jack laughed, nuzzling their noses together. “Any time, Bits.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to omgittybits:  
> i dont even know whether kiss cams exist in the hockey world, but maybe parse and tater sit next to each other at one of jack or bitty's games and they know each other and have a crush on the other (maybe some pining on both sides before?) and they're on the kiss cam? like, in a perfect ideal world where hockey players can just casually kiss each other
> 
> I don't actually think Kiss Cams are a thing, but I've never been to a hockey game before so don't quote me. We're going to just go with it anyway.

One of the reasons Kent felt better about coming to this game was that it finally wouldn’t include Mashkov. Not that he disliked the giant Russian. That was sort of the problem. He didn’t dislike him. Like…at all. Like every time he saw him he wanted to punch Alexei in the mouth…with his mouth. Softly. And a lot.

It made going to Falconers games a little…awkward. And made playing the Falconers even worse. And it wasn’t like it wouldn’t get awkward when they had to play the Bruins, but at least their interactions would be limited.

Kent breathed a sigh of relief as he glanced over at Bitty, chuckling a little at the baker’s game face. The dude got…intense, when it came to Jack’s games. A few times Kent swore he had to be restrained from rushing the ice when another player would get a little rough with their checks. As it was now, Bitty had pink cheeks and his hands curled into fists.

“You uh…you know he’s got this, right?” Kent asked, elbowing Bitty lightly.

Bitty’s eyes cut over, and he rolled them. “Well yeah. It’s just, they can be you know…a little rude.”

“A little rude,” Kent echoed, mimicking Bitty’s accent.

Bitty nudged him with his knee. “You hush. And anyway I’ve seen the way you look at a certain player who shall not be named.”

Kent cut his eyes off to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Bitty said, but there was a knowing smile playing at his lips which made no sense to Kent until a sudden, rather large body shoved itself into the empty seat next to Kent. Kent, who was instantly lost in the wide, sappy grin and soft brown eyes. Kent who was taking an offered beer into his hands, his fingers bowing the plastic cup because…because what.

“I’m sorry I’m being late,” Alexei said, reaching over and handing what looked like a frozen lemonade to Bitty. “Line was outrageous, then vendor recognise me and make me come through. I try let fans ahead but they all want autograph…” Alexei let out a sigh. “I’m miss this place.”

Kent swallowed, and could see Bitty’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Shut. Up.”

“Darlin, I didn’t say a word,” Bitty replied.

“Now we can enjoy game, yes?” Alexei said happily, leaning into Kent. “With Aces Captain not trying to get past my team.”

“For now,” Kent said, regaining his composure. “You know we’re going to wipe the ice with you in November.”

Alexei chuckled and nudged Kent with his knee. “I’m make bet on it. We win, you buy me nice dinner.”

“And if we win?” Kent challenged, daring himself to look into Alexei’s eyes.

He almost lost his composure completely when Alexei leant in and said in a very low voice, “Whatever you are wanting, Aces Captain.”

He was fairly sure he’d choked to death on his own tongue and had ascended the astral plane. Or something. But the moment was broken by the arrival of the Falconers, who took their lap on the ice. Jack paused in front of them, giving a wave, and a wink to Bitty who was already screaming for his boyfriend.

Kent felt the rush of the crowd, and managed to forget—at least for a little while—his crush the size of the fucking horseshoe nebula on the man sat next to him. The man who was leaning into him, and laughing, and brushing their thighs together.

Jesus.

Fuck.

A while later, Thirdy was checked hard and went down. Everyone was on their feet, Bittle pressed to the glass, and Kent and Alexei not far behind him. He was conscious, but he wasn’t getting up, and there was blood.

Bitty flew back into his seat, immediately getting on his phone, and Alexei was watching, his shoulders tense. With some hesitation, Kent reached out and gripped his shoulder. “Hey man, he’ll be alright. He’s a fucking warrior, you know? He’s gotten worse.”

“I know,” Alexei said. “Is hard. They were family, and now I’m not out there to help protect.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, then took the beer Kent was offering out to him. He gave a small smile. “Nostrovia,” he said.

Kent smiled, then eased Alexei back into the seat. Music began to play, and one of the big screens began to flash through the crowed in order to distract the crowd whilst the ice was cleaned up. Kent leant over to Bitty and raised a brow. “Everything good?”

“Just ripping them—politely—on twitter,” Bitty said.

Kent snorted a laugh and sat back. It wasn’t so bad, having Alexei here next to him, even if he was going a little mad with want. And it wasn’t helping that half the time Kent was sure Alexei was flirting with him, and half the time he wasn’t sure what the hell Alexei was doing.

There was a sudden rush in the crowd, and some obnoxious eighties love song started playing, and Kent watched as the camera panned through the crowd, focusing on couples. There were massive cheers for every kiss, and Kent rolled his eyes, leaning into Alexei.

“I can’t even believe they still do this at games.”

Alexei laughed. “I’m think it’s sweet. Happy couples.”

Kent opened his mouth to say something when suddenly his own face, along with the startled face of Alexei, appeared on the screen. There was a massive reaction from the crowd—considering who they were—and Kent flushed bright red as he turned to the other man next to him.

“Oh my god,” he muttered.

Alexei shrugged and put one hand on Kent’s face. “I’m stop if you want…”

“No, don’t stop,” Kent blurted, unable to say literally anything else. Especially when he was rewarded with that smile because oh my god Alexei looked like he was made of literal sunshine when he was happy.

The music rose and the crowd was losing it, and Alexei was leaning forward. Then their lips were brushing together and Kent swore he was going to catch fire. The kiss stayed chaste—they were professionals after all and the last thing they needed was some social media scandal, not that this wouldn’t go viral, Jesus.

But he was kiss-stupid and unable to say anything as Alexei dropped his hand. Kent was aware his face was probably fucking ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop staring and Alexei was looking back with some mixture of concern, and curiosity.

“We can get dinner after this?” he asked very quietly.

Kent swallowed. “I…yes. Fuck yes, Tater. Jesus what…”

Alexei laughed, then dropped his hand on Kent’s knee, and didn’t remove it the entire game.

*** 

Four hours later, Kent found himself shoved up against the door of Tater’s apartment. The room was mostly moving boxes—he’d been taking his time making the move from Providence to Boston, and Kent had a bruise on his shin from tripping over one when he first walked in.

But the pain meant nothing, literally nothing, because there were warm hands cradling his face and a soft, hot tongue stroking against his own. Kent groaned, then wrapped his arms round Alexei’s neck, going all the way up onto his toes, and pushing forward, closer because he couldn’t get fucking close _enough_.

He ripped his mouth away just long enough to say, “Jesus, thank god for the kiss cam,” before he was dragged back in.

Alexei laughed against his lips, then moved the kisses to his neck, and spoke right against his hot skin. “Remind me send gift basket tomorrow. After I buy breakfast.”

Kent laughed, giddy and need all at once, and thought that was a damn good idea. Then again, with those giant hands dragging him to the bedroom, anything seemed like a damn good idea.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to omgittybits: your patater fics are beautiful! sickfic. please? pretty please?

Kent woke up to a soft groan, and extreme heat radiating off the body next to him. He sat up, slightly dazed from sleep, and a little confused. There was a faint light from the approaching dawn, but it was still early as hell, and Kent remained confused until he saw Alexei, who looked...wrong.

On instinct, Kent put the inside of his wrist across his boyfriend’s brow, and felt the searing heat. “Ah fuck,” he groaned.

Alexei mumbled, shifting, sounding incoherent. He let out a small cough, which sounded rough--clogged and deep-chested. He muttered something in Russian, and his eyes didn’t open which told Kent this was serious business.

Kent, who was also just the worst at dealing with illness. The most he’d ever done for anyone was maybe a cup of tepid water with a slice of lemon, and if they were really special to him, he’d chuck a bottle of dayquil in their direction with something like, “Get me sick and I will eat your face.”

But this wasn’t just someone. This was the love of his life and sick or not, Kent needed to do something. He rolled out of bed, his boxers slightly twisted on his hips, his hair in god knows what state, and he shuffled to his bathroom where he kept all of his supplies.

Most of it was outdated tylenol bottles and benadryl, but he found one unopened box of ibuprofen which he dug out, checking the date, then padded to the kitchen for a bottle of Alexei’s disgusting Sunny D.

Before walking out, he grabbed his phone, opened up his texts, and sent a message. **Yo, Bits. Um if your boyfriend is dying of a flu, what do you do**?

He left the phone on the table and went back to the bedroom where Alexei had covered himself in blankets, and was shivering. Kent swiped a hand across his forehead. “Dude, if you get me sick, you are so taking care of me. I’m going to be your worst sick princess nightmare.”

Alexei said nothing.

Kent sighed and shook him by the shoulder. “Babe, come on. You gotta take some of this.”

Alexei muttered at him in Russian, his voice thick and heavy and raspy. But eventually Kent got him up enough to swallow down the pills, and he put the juice on the nightstand before grabbing a flannel from the bathroom, wetting it, and draping it across his forehead.

Neither of his parents had really been the fussing type, so Kent really had no idea what to do beyond that. As a kid he’d get a wet flannel, and a new colouring book. And if it was particularly bad, he might get a few tins of condensed soup.

With a sigh, he went back to the kitchen when it was clear Alexei wasn’t going to be moving for a while. He rummaged through the cabinets, coming up with precisely zero shit that would be good for someone with a flu. He grumbled, then went back to his phone and saw a reply text from Bittle.

**Soup. I’m emailing you my recipe. If you follow the directions exactly, he’ll be cured. Or at least close to it. Don’t mess this up, Parse. I like Tater**!

Kent flipped his phone off, but then sent a sunglasses emoji and a peace sign back to Bittle before opening up the email. Most of the stuff he didn’t have, but there was some grocery store nearby he thought was probably open at this god-forsaken hour.

It was. He spent over a hundred bucks--mostly because he had a sudden need to try all the new flavours of oreo because holy shit, birthday cake? But he found the broth, and the fresh veg, and the chicken from a disgruntled butcher who seemed really pissed about having to exist this early. Bit’s recipe said either noodles or potatoes, so he went with noodles because those at least came in a pre-measured packet.

Then he got home and got to work.

Kent never put this much effort into anything ever. So sautéing chicken cubes with chopped garlic--and oh god will that smell actually come off his skin--with carrots and celery and onion and some other crap was more effort than he’d put into a meal in a long time. But soon enough he was pouring the broth and adding some spices and some of the oil and setting a timer.

He went back to check on Alexei who was just starting to wake up. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but Kent remembered someone once saying that was good--like the fever was going down. Sure enough, when Kent brushed his lips along Alexei’s forehead, it was a lot cooler.

“You’re sick, babe.”

“Obvious,” Alexei rasped. “I’m feel terrible.”

Kent’s heart lurched a little at the pathetic pout on his boyfriend’s mouth, and he brushed his cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. “Well you’re in bed all day, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

Alexei let out a tiny hum as he wrapped his arms round Kent’s waist, burying his face in Kent’s stomach. “Lucky me.”

Kent laughed, brushing his fingers through Alexei’s hair. “Damn lucky. How many people can say the Captain of an NHL team made them soup for their flu.”

Alexei’s head popped up, his brow creased with worry. “You making soup for me?”

“From scratch,” Kent said proudly, and Alexei’s brow furrowed even more.

“House still standing? I’m not be poisoned from soup?”

Kent smacked his shoulder. “Dude, chirp me all you want.” Then he sighed and added, “It’s Bittle’s recipe.”

Kent grinned. “Oh good. Then should be good if you follow directions.”

“You know, I don’t have to sit here and take this,” Kent said, but he didn’t move away until the timer on the stove went off. Alexei let him go reluctantly with a soft whine, and Kent hurried into the kitchen to add the noddles. He dipped a spoon in to taste the broth and his eyes went wide.

“Holy fuck that’s good.” He stirred everything, set the timer again, then got a tray ready with a couple of bowls, and at the last minute he made a cup of tea with some crap Alexei had brought back with him from his last trip to Moscow.

When it was done, Kent filled two bowls, and tried not to think of how weird it was they were having chicken soup for breakfast. He moved into the room, and Alexei brightened, propping up their pillows as Kent got everything situated.

They ate in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder, and when their bellies were full and bowls empty, Kent moved the tray to the end of the bed just before Alexei pulled him into a snuggle.

“That was very good, thank you,” he breathed.

Kent shrugged. “All Bittle.”

Alexei laughed, shaking his head as he kissed the side of Kent’s neck. “I’m lucky man, I’m have good boyfriend, take best care of me. Cook good soup, make perfect tea.”

Kent felt a warm wash of affection coursing through him, and he pulled Alexei closer. “When I catch this plague, you know I’m going to be a nightmare, right?”

Alexei laughed, which turned into a cough he buried in the pillow. When he came up for air, he was still smiling, still holding Kent tight. “Yes. But I’m escape to Providence, let Kit nurse you.”

Kent’s look of insult made Alexei giggle and cough again, and when he stopped, Kent pouted.

“I’m kid you,” Alexei said, and drew his thumb under Kent’s pouting bottom lip. “I take best care of you too. Lot of soup, lot of cuddles and medicine. Make you healthy again.”

Kent sighed, then motioned for Alexei to lay back down. “Well you need to hurry and get better.” He touched the side of his throat and sighed dramatically. “I think I’m already starting to feel a little tickle.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @downtheupstairs asked: “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” and Patater?
> 
> Ahh bed-sharing. Classic. So many tropes here. Caught in the rain, bed sharing, ridiculous Russians using tiny hockey players as snuggle buddies. Didn’t mean for it to get so long! Whoops. I’m adding this to a separate post cos the read-more never works on mobile when it’s applied to an ask.

***

Kent couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop feeling some level of trepidation as he sat at the press conference trying to smile, trying to be welcoming as captain to Alexei Mashkov. It was a trade Kent begged the Aces not to go through with, a trade Kent was stressed about because the only interaction he had with Alexei happened to be during games and the giant of a man looked like he wanted to kill him.

Sure he heard the guy was a softie off the ice, and sure he’d heard…well he’d heard a lot of things. Like the guy was into bad romance novels, and the guy basically had to escape Russia because of gay rumours, and the guy had a degree in like…physics or something.

He’d been on the Falconers for a while, and Kent knew he was pretty close with Zimms and Bittle, and that really probably meant the guy was not going to be his best friend.

But Kent was captain and he was good at being captain, so when it was his time to speak he merely looked over and smiled and said, “Mashkov has amazing stats and I couldn’t be more excited to have him on the team.”

He didn’t look over then, to see what Mashkov’s face looked like.

Two hours later Kent swore he was going to kill his coaches, the entire PR team, and everyone involved. “Tater’s new place is near yours. You mind driving him?”

Kent deliberately lived outside of Vegas to avoid the BS. He didn’t love the four am, hour-long commutes, but it made dealing with city life easier to handle. Of course he hadn’t expected the new guy to follow suit.

“Uh.”

A clap on the back, a shove toward the back doors where Mashkov was waiting looking incredibly…nervous? And Kent sighed. “You know what, fuck you guys.”

“Later, Cap!”

Kent shoved a middle finger over his shoulder as he approached Mashkov who was holding his duffel bag looking almost sheepish.

“If you aren’t wanting, I’m get ride another way.” He rubbed the back of his neck looking like a damned kicked puppy and if that wasn’t kind of cute…

Kent stopped himself, then clapped Mashkov on the shoulder. “Chill bro, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal.

Not because Mashkov was a dick. He wasn’t. He was like an over-excited Russian bear or something, exclaiming at all the lights and the crowds of the city. But no. Because about ten minutes on the freeway and the storm which had only looked vaguely frightening was pouring buckets and had traffic at a near stand-still.

The ugly, obnoxious warning alarm was going off on both their phones, and Kent stared down. “Fuck me,” he groaned. “This is going to last until one AM?”

“We are still far?” Alexei asked.

Kent groaned and dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. “Like forty minutes. Fuck. I’m so tired,” he whined.

A second later he felt warm, slightly hesitant fingers on the back of his neck and he froze. “Look, there is hotel up there. We can stay, go in morning.”

Kent grimaced. He’d been on an NHL salary so long the idea of staying in some highway motel was…I mean what the fuck was he? A Winchester? But his other prospect was sleeping in the fucking car until this nightmare passed so…

It took them twenty minutes to make it through stalled out cars and the deluge of rain, but eventually they got to the little motel car park and managed to make a run for it.

The lobby was open, AC blasting making their rain-soaked skin too cold. A bored, tired looking kid who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, raised a brow. “We’ve got one room left.”

Kent slapped his card on the counter. “Dude. I literally do not care if it’s next to the dumpsters, okay?”

Within five minutes they had their key and were walking back out, up the rickety stairs, and to the end of the walkway which Kent wasn’t entirely confident could hold their combined weight. He fumbled with the key, Mashkov pressed against his back, and stumbled in.

And froze.

One- the place reeked like cigarettes and probably sex but he couldn’t be sure about that last one. Two- there was one bed. Not even like a bed and a shitty couch. Just a bed, a TV, and a lopsided, round table.

“Fuck.”

“Is okay,” Alexei said, clapping Kent on the shoulder. “I’m not hog covers.”

Kent’s tongue froze and his words choked in his throat and he tried to come up with, “Hey man it’s fine, I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

Only he was soaked and the floor looked…yeah. No. And the bed didn’t look much better but he was fucking cold and wet and tired. So he just kind of stood there as Mashkov stripped to boxers, laid his clothes out on the crappy table, then went into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

Kent let out a puff of air, then did the same with his shirt and jeans, and pulled the covers back. He kind of half expected this to be some horror movie scenario with bed bugs scattering across the white sheets, but actually everything smelt of bleach and starch, and it wasn’t comfortable, but it was warm.

He flicked off the lights and put his head on the flat pillow and sighed.

Mashkov joined him five minutes later, taking up way more than half the bed. Kent could make out a small grin on his face as he turned to Kent, propped up on his hand. “I’m not expect this with new captain,” he said with a wink. “Like start of romance novel.”

Kent spluttered. “Oh my god, Tater.”

Mashkov laughed, reaching over to shove at Kent’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Aces Captain, I’m not seduce you like this. Buy nice dinner first.”

Kent’s entire face went red and he turned to bury it in the pillow. “Jesus. Zimms could have warned me.”

Mashkov’s chuckle was soft, and he nestled into the blankets. “If you want, dinner.”

Kent turned, blinking. “Um.”

Mashkov shrugged, like it was a real question, like he was really waiting for an answer.

Kent swallowed. “Yeah. Okay. But Jesus we have to keep it quiet.”

“I’m like vault, keep all team secrets,” he replied with a wink. “You show me good restaurants, I show you good time.”

“Jesus,” Kent breathed again. But soon enough Mashkov was out–not snoring thank god, and actually keeping the bed warm. Kent lay there a little confused, wondering if he actually just fucking agreed to go on a date with Alexei Mashkov. And wondering why the hell he didn’t hate that idea.

***

Kent woke in the morning with two massive arms, warm and soft, crushing him to an even more massive chest. Soft breath ghosted behind his ear, and when he moved, the man behind him made a noise of protest.

“Just little bit longer. You make good tenny bear.”

Kent managed a small laugh and thought, ‘fuck it,’ as he nestled backward. “I think you mean teddy bear.”

“Kenny bear,” Mashkov replied.

“Oh my god,” Kent groaned, and Mashkov laughed before pressing a dry kiss to Kent’s shoulder.

“We have date tonight?” he asked.

Kent closed his eyes and felt a little terrified, but in that way which made his toes tingle. In the way he couldn’t wait to say, “Yeah. Hell yeah. Date tonight.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rant-and-ship asked:  
> Prompt: What about Bitty meeting BadBob as Jack's BF? I feel Bob was the biggest zombies shipper "you miss 100% of the shots you don't take". Just something I thought about while studying :P

“Oh Lord Jack I…I can’t…oh this is so embarrassin’.”

Jack stared at his boyfriend who was nestled against his side as the plane started to descend toward the airport in Montreal. “What are you talking about, Bits?”

Bitty covered his face and took in a shaking breath. “Your parents.”

Jack clearly didn’t understand, his left brow raised. “My parents,” he repeated.

Bitty huffed, his cheeks pink. “Jack,” he said, his voice just a touch desperate. “I’m…Lord Jack I’m about to meet your parents. Some college kid with a vlog who bakes pies?!” He let out a slightly hysterical laugh, which Jack immediately tried to soothe, pulling Bitty closer to him. “And my French is so bad!”

At that, Jack laughed and shook his head. “Both my parents speak English, Bits.”

Bitty sighed. “Yes but…”

Jack shook his head. “They’re going to love you, trust me. My dad already loves you. You’ve met him.”

“Yes but…” Bitty waved his hands round. “Not as…not as your boyfriend. Lord Jack…I’m not cut out for this. Bein’ someone’s boyfriend.”

Jack quickly took Bitty’s chin between his fingers, turning his face up toward him, and brushed their lips together gently, soothing and sweet. “Bitty, my parents already love you. And remember, my dad was the one who told me to go after you. Trust me, it’s going to be fine.”

*** 

Bitty was still a shaking mess as he stepped off the plane. Jack being who he was, was accosted by fans, and there was a handful of press waiting, but Jack and Bitty did little more than politely wave as they got their cases and made their way to the car Bob had sent to pick them up.

Bitty’s leg was shaking up and down the entire time, his anxiety so high he didn’t even have time to enjoy the sights of his first trip to Montreal. Luckily the drive wasn’t too long, and soon enough they were pulling through a gate, and up a massive driveway.

The house was less intimidating than Bitty thought it would be, large but not Hollywood mansion. He remembered Jack saying his parents had no interest in living like a celebrity. It was two stories, homey, all browns and greens. It was welcoming and it did a little to put Bitty at ease as they climbed out of the car.

Before Bitty really had time to properly panic again, the front door was open and Bad Bob Zimmermann was heading down the steps. Jack stood stiffly, waiting for his greeting, but Bob gave him little more than a pat on the shoulder before throwing his arm round Bitty.

“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

“Um,” Bitty said, looking helplessly at Jack who was chuckling behind his hand. “For…me?”

“When Jack told me it was you, I had never been so happy. I knew it all along,” he prattled as he led the way inside. Bitty was so taken aback he barely registered going inside, and being drawn into a cosy lounge. “The eyes he had for you, even in the beginning.” Bob shook his head and gave Bitty’s shoulders a last squeeze before letting Bitty settle onto the sofa next to Jack who was still wearing an amused grin. “Now,” Bob said, “Let’s talk weddings.”

Bitty squeaked, and Jack chirped something in French, and Bob threw his head back and laughed.

“You can protest all you want, mon fils,” he said, shaking his finger at Jack, “but I see the way you two are with each other. It’s only a matter of time. Might as well get on it now, and I happen to know for a fact Nova Scotia is gorgeous in the spring for weddings.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> PB&J + 71 "Kiss me, quick!" (I love the way you write all the characters!!!)

“Kiss me, quick!”

Bitty’s vision was suddenly full of a blonde–vaguely familiar looking, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, and he couldn’t really think when a ridiculously good looking dude in like fucking Armani was holding him by the shoulders and asking for a kiss.

“Uh. Please. Except you’re going to get photographed but like…it should be cool. I will seriously owe you.”

Bitty blinked. “Are you a celebrity.”

“Sort of. Come on, you in or out? I’m gonna use tongue…”

“In,” Bitty blurted. He was in Vegas–he’d gone there determined to do a few things that would make his great gran turn round in her grave because he wanted to live a little. He’d just turned twenty-one and his single relationship of six whole months that never got past heavy-petting was not going to be his legacy, damn it.

So he was shoved back against the bar and the stranger took his face, and kissed him. It was slow, and hot–god so fucking hot. The guy’s hand moved from his cheek to his hair, mussing it to hell, making him light up all over. Their tongues slowed, dragging across one another’s, and it carried on so long Bitty thought he might die of oxygen deprivation.

Then it was over. The guy had pulled back leaving Bitty there a little kiss stupid until the dude bodily turned him toward the bar top. Two drinks appeared as if by magic, and the guy clinked his glass against Bitty’s.

“Nice job, by the way.”

“Um.” Bitty blinked, then gulped half the drink, sputtering because he was not a fan of gin.

“I’m Kent.”

“Bitty,” he said quietly.

“Hmm. Itty Bitty, I like it,” Kent said. “Thanks for that. The thing is, my boyfriend is in the closet and I accidentally got a little handsy a few minutes ago, so I needed a distraction for the press.”

Bitty flushed again. “Are you guys like…actors or…?”

“Hockey Players. I’m Captain of the Aces.”

Ah. So…yeah. Shit. “Oh. I’m uhh…captain of my college team. I play for Samwell.”

Kent let out a low whistle. “Shit. You swept the season last year. Nice fucking job. You going pro?”

Bitty laughed. “Uh yeah no. If I have my way I’m going to settle down with a nice guy and a dog and a bakery.”

“Fuck, I love pie,” Kent said. “Do you like cats?” He spent the next half hour showing a very confused Eric Bittle pictures of a white, flat-faced persian. Eventually though, he got a text and set his drink on the bar. “Put the rest of his shit on my tab,” he told the bartender. “All night.” He then turned to Bitty and gave him a once-over. “Drink it up, kid. And thanks.”

Then he was gone, melting into the crowd like he’d never been.

Bitty left shortly after, confused and feeling a little lost. He wasn’t even sure it was real until he woke the next morning with a twitter notification @realkentparse is now following you.

There was a DM following that, with an article, headlining the bar kiss, and the message from Kent: Shit we look good! My boyfriend thought it was hot.

Bitty blushed, said thanks, and hoped that was it.

*** 

And it was. For a while. Bitty was working his shift at Annie’s then when a tall man with rich black hair and endless blue eyes walked in. He scanned the employees, and when his gaze landed on Bitty, he walked over.

It took Bitty all of four seconds to recognise the Falconer’s Captain, Jack Zimmermann–Hockey Royalty.

“Uh,” Bitty said.

Jack smiled. “Someone told me you work here.”

“Me?” Bitty squeaked.

Jack laughed then said very quietly, “I kind of wanted to meet the guy who made out with my boyfriend a few months ago in Vegas.”

Bitty nearly choked on his own tongue. “Oh my god you and Kent. Look I didn’t…it wasn’t…”

Jack held up a hand, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with two numbers scribbled on it. “Kent’s playing us in Providence this week. There’s a ticket for you, if you want. And we were wondering if you wanted to get dinner after. Just the three of us.”

Bitty swallowed thickly, his eyes wide, startled and confused. “Um. Like a…”

“Exactly like a,” Jack said. 

“Me? With…with me? But I’m…”

“Cute?” Jack offered. “Definitely sexy.” When Bitty blinked, Jack’s arms dropped to his sides. “Kent gave me all the lines and that was the last one. I’m sorry.”

Bitty burst into laughter. “Oh lordy. You’re for real, ain’t you.”

Jack shrugged. “I thought you were cute and he liked you. So…if you’re interested.”

“God yeah,” Bitty blurted, then flushed. “But I’ll have you know I’m not just some hussy, Mr Zimmermann. I’m a proper boy.”

“Who wants a dog and a bakery,” Jack supplied, and smiled when Bitty looked startled. “Kent said. And we don’t have a dog, but we’ve got his cat and I don’t see why we can’t get a bakery too.”

“You don’t even know me,” Bitty managed.

Jack leant over and put his hand over Bitty’s. “No. But we could. So…you in?”

Bitty looked down at Jack’s hand covering his, and at the phone numbers on the paper, then back up at Jack’s imploring, painfully honest eyes and smiled. “Yeah. I’m in.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shittyslardo asked:  
> Hiya there, idk if you are still taking Patater prompts but I fell into a hole & can't get out so I might as well just stay & drown in the feels. I recently found this prompt in a list of things I wanted to write originally but I think I'd die if you wrote it, haha. So here it goes: "getting slightly too drunk in the middle of the afternoon and slow dancing to dumb cheesy old music and kissing in a way that’s more laughter than actual kissing" *____*

Okay I feel like this prompt got away from me…sorry. I hope you like it anyway.

*** 

He walks into the kitchen looking absurd–he knows he looks absurd. The dressing gown is this purple silk thing one of his fans gave him, and he’s wearing Armani boxer-briefs which have little cats all over them–custom made in an attempt to get him to agree to do a spread for them (it worked). His socks are mismatched and not even the same size–one is near his knee, the other scrunched near his ankle. His hair is a fucking mess, and he’s drinking a mimosa from a massive brandy snifter which is an entire split of champagne and four drops of orange juice because he hates the taste but likes the way it makes the champagne foggy.

Alexei is at the cooker making eggs. He’s got his iPod on the dock and his Beatles mix is playing which makes Kent grimace. “You do realise you’re about fifty years too late to really enjoy this music, right?”

Alexei, who’s in a Falconer’s t-shirt which is faded and worn, and a pair of board shorts Kent bought him because hey thought they would look fucking cute (they do), turns and smiles. His smile lights up his entire face, and at that moment Kent doesn’t even see the mussed brown hair, or the soft crinkle by Alexei’s eyes, or the bruised love bite under his ear.

Kent crowds right into Alexei’s space and pushes his face into the front of his shirt. It smells like him–musky and heady and fucking so good.

“I’m not care if they old. I like this music. John Lennon has nice voice.”

“He was an abusive dick,” Kent mutters.

Alexei pokes Kent in the nose with the handle of the spatula. “Abusive dick with nice, crooning tones.” He reaches over and flicks to the next song and Til There was You starts to play.

Kent reaches round and turns the burner off, ignoring Alexei’s scandalised huff, as he pulls him into the middle of the floor. “You ruin my nice breakfast, you bad man.”

“They were egg whites, Tater,” Kent complains. “There’s nothing nice about egg whites.” His head is buzzing lightly from the champagne and Jesus, he’s so in love with this giant of a man. He puts his arms round him and they begin to move to the gentle sounds of the guitar.

When Kent looks up at Alexei, he momentarily loses his breath at the adoring look his boyfriend is giving him. One of Tater’s massive hands comes up, and it covers almost all of Kent’s left cheek, and fuck he loves that feeling so much it’s almost embarrassing.

“You always ruin plans,” Alexei says. “Ruin nice breakfast, ruin my plans to live life as free bachelor.”

Kent smacks him. “Shut up. You love me. And if you quit complaining, I’ll cook you an omelet.”

Alexei dips his head low, then spins Kent until they’re pushed up against the kitchen table, and he gives him a long, warm, drawn out kiss which makes Kent’s head spin and his toes curl. He’s smiling when he pulls back, dragging his fingers up Kent’s sides, then into his hair and tugs just a little. Possessive, but not enough to hurt.

“I’m not want your bad cooking.” When Kent gives an indignant snort and prepares a response, Alexei kisses him to shut him up. “We call for uber, take you to place with burritos you like.”

Kent groans and pushes up to his toes to latch on to Alexei’s neck, and laughs when the giant hands cup his ass and hitches him even closer. “You’re fucking great.”

Alexei pulls back with a happy smile, then spins Kent again. The song switches. It’s another love song, but with a peppier beat, and Kent rocks his hips to it.

“I love you. Do I tell you enough?” Kent asks. His voice sounds suddenly worried.

Alexei laughs and pushes his nose into Kent’s cheek. “You tell exactly enough, kotyonok. Come, let’s get dressed, get good breakfast, have walk, maybe. Yes?”

He grins. “Yeah. Alright, yeah.” 

Kent threads his fingers through Alexei’s and allows himself to be pulled from the room. The echoes of the song follow them as they hurry to get dressed. And it feels really fucking perfect.

…I’m in love with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my tumblr to submit your own fic request at [omgittybits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omgittybits)


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